Nameless
by Lady Abernathy Wordsmith
Summary: "I, Kyoya Ootori, here by renounce my name, and my life." If Tamaki hadn't been there to save Kyoya from in inevitable darkness of the youngests sons' own heart and soul. CHARA DEATH! Depressing one-shot! REWRITTEN IN SECOND CHAPTER!
1. Chapter 1

Calmly, kyoya inked the words into his note book, his ashen-gaze cold as he watched the black-writer scrawl across the clean, white sheet like a flock of ravens across a snow-white sky, staining the purity of the one's empty pages. and slowly, he felt himself colapse. falling to his knees, he turned to the midnight sky before him, the canvas of blackness flecked with silver, casting a weak shimmer to the tears he felt flowing.

He held his fine silken locks in a grip, he gave up everything for his father, he gave up everything, his childhood, his mother, his friends, his life...for the respect of his father. the one thing he craved so much, the one thing he felt, he knew he could never gain. He ruined everything that made him Kyoya, he gave up his dreams of becoming an author, an artist, for a feeble and failed attempt for his fathers love.

something he still had to taste, because the Ootori name required perfection, already marred by his only daughters idiocy with secondary schooling, a perfection, like the clean white pages he wrote on, perfection like an afternoon sky.

Perfection Kyoya couldn't live up to, Kyoya was the embodiment of stars ruinging the darkness of the night sky, the ink he wrote with, the raven that flew across the october plains.

His bothers, doves. Captured and trained to do exactly as said, something he mindlessly desired, for the affection they aquired though sacraffice and diligint, blind obidince.

For his own father, the man that was suposed to love him indiscriminently, the man that was to adore and dote on his children every second he could, because they had chosen to stay with him during his devorce, because only they're youngest sister followed they're mother to the commoner life.

Never before had Kyoya lothed himself so, for not being perfection, for not being lovely enough to earn the affection he had been deprived of.

He wished the perfection, he prayed for the blindness, he wanted nothing more then the love he deserved for merely being alive.

He fell back, tears in his eyes, falling with cristiline beauty, as the pen fell from his cold grasp, the note book folding as it tumbled to the grass of the wild forest behind the ootori estate, as the youngest son shakily breathed, his shoulders quaking in a feeble attempt to stop the pathadic sobs from becoming voiced. and, one last breath from the lips of Kyoya Ootori, Mother of the Host Club, calm, collected, and brilliant, was gone. as his cold, unliving corpse fell to the summer green-grass.

Slowly, a breeze lifted open the black note book, and marred on the pages were the words, the final words of him spots on them were wet, as a small, crystal bottle rolled onto the notebook from Kyoya's lifeless form. a single drop of lavander-colored liquid falling onto the page, together with the single dot of ink made by the fountain pen and the raven-haired fellow that lay behind them, they mixed a black smudge on the one's pristine writing and paper.

_**"I, Kyoya Ootori, hereby renounce my name, and my life. I have given all that i have to give as a human being, as a soul on this Earth, as a person under the sun, for the love of my father. Something that I have not been yet able to attain. Useless and meaningless, i give my final offering, in even the slightest hope that I will win the affection of my own father.**_

_**In truth, i've always hated you Otou-san, I'll see you in hell.**_

_**Sinsirely, me."**_


	2. REWRITE

_Sooo, I read this thing from...a while ago and...god it** pains** me to see it! So, I've decided to rewrite it. _

_Please note that I use headcanons to excess so a lot of what I say isn't canon and shouldn't be taken seriously. Here I go!_

* * *

Save the bade from lowly maids, there wasn't a sound to ruin the refreshingly chill, remarkably silent early spring air.

Kyoya liked nights, nighttime was his favorite time of the entire day. His ever-troublesome blood pressure felt at ease during the night, and despite his weak immune system, he always insisted on going out for at least a little while during the night, regardless of the risks.

His father owed him that, at least.

Though, Kyoya wasn't exactly sure that his Father knew about his blood pressure or his sicknesses in the first place, part of him wondered if he did know, but simply didn't care.

_Stop it...You're an Ootori, and an Ootori does not dwell on trivial matters like this, you have better things to think about._ He scolded himself, ignoring the maid's calls to return to the warmth of the house.

He wandered through the paths of the gardens, seeing no frogs had yet woken from hibernation, there were no crickets in the soggy, wet grass. In a few weeks, when what was left of the snow melted and dried up, landscapers would ruin this scene of natural perfection and return the entire estate into what Kyoya called 'The Ootori Perfection'.

Far from any other kind of perfection (Natural Perfection, Professional Perfection, Social Perfection), the Ootori Perfection was strived for by all, most without even realizing it. It was, quite simply, to be equal parts intelligent and moronic.

The Ootori Perfection was displayed in full by both his elder brothers, one more so than the other. They were intelligent, the top of both their classes since their very first day, a tradition Kyoya had kept up in full, but their skills in other areas were, to put it lightly, lacking.

Kyoya's eldest brother was, by all means, the very picture of Ootori Perfection. He was social, likeable, handsome and intelligent, but he was also very obedient, like a lapdog he bent to every whim of Fathers. Father decided his classes all throughout his life, and decided his wife along with it. (It wasn't so much of a betrothal, it was more like Father putting a woman in front of him and heavily implying that this was the woman that would bear him grandchildren.) And, every decision that was made, he went with it all, willingly. He knew he was being groomed for a life that would require such skills, and happily went along with it without so much as a 'Can I take a spare class after lunch?' Yes, his eldest brother truly was equal parts intelligent and moronic, forever allowing himself to be moved across a chessboard like a pawn instead of a king.

And his middle brother couldn't speak to a woman to save his life, he was, by all accounts, far too _male_ to ever indulge a lady in her wanted conversation, the beauty of the world and of poetry and love. His Cotillion classes did nothing to absolve him of this brutish behavior, he still would rather bore a woman to death by talking like the doctor he aspired to be. Along with his lack of motivation to challenge the eldest's' right to the company, he was content to become a higher-class of commoner once his school bills had been paid by Father.

And then, there was Kyoya himself.

He sat heavily on one of the stone benches, shoulders squared, staring up at the moonless sky.

He sighed heavily, opening his coat and retrieving his notebook from the pocket inside, undoing the whole thing and leaving it folded beside him.

He began writing, slowly so the fountain pen he'd decided to use wouldn't leak onto the page.

Kyoya himself, he wasn't the Ootori Perfection.

He was intelligent, there was no arguing in that sense, he'd soundly beaten both his brothers in the various money-based games growing up, multiple times too. But, he was not an equal part moronic. He didn't like Father dictating g his life, and at a young age, when he refused to attend those same Cotillion classes, Father simply...gave up.

There was no use in attempting to groom a second heir anyway, one had already been set.

There wasn't a day where he wished he hadn't just shut up and gone.

In an attempt to regain Father's favour, Kyoya had learnt to be a perfect gentlemen, without so much as a single class, learning from manuels, movies and books.

It hadn't worked, not at all.

Kyoya paused in his writing, wiping at his ashen eyes with the sleeve of his light blue night clothes, ripping away the page, as it had been stained with his weak tears.

Father still refused to acknowledge him when he had not only wooed a young girl about his age into dancing with him the whole night at a party hosted by one of his nameless associates, and subsequently causing her to become enamoured with him to the point where she desperately clung to a lookalike in a videogame and years later move from Paris to Japan in an effort to marry him despite having forgotten his name.

But, he did see potential in Kyoya, not as an heir but as a middleman. Kyoya would befriend the kids of high-up businessmen and woman, inviting them over a couple times before Father would express 'concern' that he didn't know who his son was playing with, asking for a meet up with the kids' parents. Kyoya had long since given up as well, trying to get personal affection out of his cold father, professional recognition was far easier to attain.

Kyoya did as he was told, always hoping, silently praying, that he'd one day be cleansed of his early, childish refusal to dress up and dance as Father's doll of a son.

He grew up like this, from the tender age of nine to his last year of middle school.

But this...no, he wouldn't do it. He'd done enough for his father. He realized his fathers' love would forever be out of his grasp. There was no use anymore, no use in ever trying anymore. He refused to take on one more project for his father, to speak to the blonde bastard in an effort to bring their fathers together. Suoh Tamaki... he wouldn't talk to him, befriend him, and, as far as Suoh would know, Kyoya Ootori would just be a student he hadn't met.

He left his father behind, and all that came with him. This was the final straw for him, he was done being Father's dog. He _wasn't_ equal parts intelligent and moronic. He _wasn't_ the very vision of Ootori Perfection.

But there wasn't a week, a day, an hour where he didn't wish he was.

Kyoya was but the ink staining a family tapestry, he stars above his head that ruined the endless black of the sky, the crow that bellowed it ear-splitting shriek of nightmares on a snowy October plain.

His brothers...no, the entire Ootori name, everybody who held the god-given honour of being born an Ootori, they were all, at some level, a vision of that absolute perfection. Even his only sister, though annoyingly ditzy, had accepted her role as a piece in Fathers' games, and she married the man who had been set before her, no matter how scummy he was.

The entire world sung praise to the Ootori Family, calling them the Japanese Royalty of the Second Century. Everywhere he went, he was followed by that praise, all of it simply because he'd been born with this name of his.

He cursed his name, his blasted name. If so many adored him, why couldn't his father? Didn't he have a right to that? To love?

Even during these last few minutes, he loathed himself, for not being that perfection, for not being lovely enough, for not being stupid enough to simply, blindly, follow his fathers' will.

He prayed for perfection, craved it, worked for it, he prayed for the blindness that his Brothers' so excelled at. He was nothing more than a boy wanting his father.

He left the notebook, his finished note written skilfully across the once empty page, not so much as a dot of ink where it shouldn't be marred the page.

He sighed softly, his breath warm before his lips, he closed his ashen eyes and knelt before the statue of Buddha that situated in the garden, as close to the edge of the Ootori property as possible.

Though Yoshio wasn't religious in the least, he was always afraid of some higher power, he did all he could to please the gods of the old beliefs, scared his greedy ways would haunt him in the afterlife. He kept this old statue in the back, near a small clutch of trees, like a secret he was hiding from the rest of the world.

And, for the first time in a long time, he prayed for something other than absolute perfection or the love of his father.

He prayed that his sins would be forgiven.

He shifted slightly, sitting so his back was to the fountain. He lifted a small glass container to his eyes, it was clear, almost like water. He uncorked it, and swallowed thickly before bringing the rim to his lips, and throwing his head back.

The moment it touched his mouth, he knew there wasn't any going back.

Strangely, he felt at peace. Slowly, he felt the chill of the early spring night fade, leaving a pleasant warmth in the wake. Why had he come outside again...? He couldn't remember...He should've been inside, it was almost midnight, and he had school tomorrow.

Right...he always took a nighttime walk, to help his blood pressure so he could sleep better...

He closed his eyes as they grew heavier and heavier, and felt something soft press against his side.

He heard his sister's' voice. "Silly boy, you'll catch your death out here like this!" She chided softly, holding him as he felt his coat wrap around his shoulders, holding him tightly to her. Through his fuzzy vision, he saw uniformed woman. Fuyumi waved off one. "Go get somebody that can carry him to bed." The figure bowed, running down the long path back to the house.

Slow tears fell from his eyes, his head falling slack against her shoulder. "M' sorry..." He muttered sleepily, his chest slowly rising, his body limp.

"M-my lady!" Their voices were so...so distant..."H-his note book, please! We must move him now, we must get Master Yuuichi, or Akito-sama!" He wanted to ask them very much to be quiet, that he was very tired, but he couldn't summon the words or strength to glare at them.

He didn't even notice when Fuyumi left his side, reaching for the note.

By then, he was already asleep, unable to hear her shriek and subsequent sobbing.

_**"There's nothing left for me here. Please, forgive me for being a failure as a son. I hereby renounce the name Kyoya Ootori.**_

_**I'll see you in hell Father dearest."**_


End file.
